


Beginning and Becoming

by Project0506



Series: Soft Wars [37]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Hurt/Comfort, No Angst, Sparring, gen - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-11
Updated: 2020-04-11
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:29:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23593876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506
Summary: In nearly every universe, they become ARC.  In this universe, Rex molds them himself.
Relationships: CT-21-0408 | Echo & CT-7567 | Rex
Series: Soft Wars [37]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683775
Comments: 30
Kudos: 590





	Beginning and Becoming

There’s a thud, a sound of air pushed entirely out of a chest.

“Again.”

Echo gives himself a single second to recover.

“ _Trooper_.”

That voice has Echo shoving himself to his feet immediately. His entire body is a bruise and there’s an intermittent tremor in his left hand, but he falls into position anyway. Feet shoulder width apart, support leg back, knees soft, hips engaged, shoulders forward. His shoulder throbs.

Captain Rex doesn’t give him a signal. Echo hadn’t known it was possible for a brother to move that quickly before they started this.

He’s on defensive. He’s _always_ on defensive, the Captain’s offense is relentless and gives no quarter. Whether Echo tries to add distance or get in close, he’s met with a blow designed, it feels like, to inflict the most pain for however much leverage it required.

Echo lands shoulders first. His head follows. The green-white overhead lights blur with the sweat in his eyes.

“Again.”

Again, again. He checks his lip as he rolls to his knees. It stings, but his fingers don’t come away bloody. The throbbing in his shoulder is becoming harder to ignore.

The Captain goes low this time. Echo has learned not to kick out with his whole leg, it only gives the Captain a hand-hold to throw him entirely off balance. He spins, knee coming up almost more like a block than a kick. The Captain takes it against his arm and keeps coming. Echo lets the momentum finish spinning him 180 before he tries to halt the motion. He’s learned that one the hard way too. He gets a step, a single heartbeat into an attack before mass goes crashing into his side and he loses his feet. He lands ass first, shoulders second. His head bounces off the mat again and it’s not just sweat in his eyes. The ceiling lights are starbursts and hazy at the edges. He rolls to his knees.

“Hold.”

Hold.

He holds.

He’s low, down on his elbows, so he only sees the edges of the Captain’s knee beside him. The blue mat below him is splattered with dark spots where his sweat has dripped. The strands of hair not plastered to his forehead brush the floor. A heavy hand holds the back of his head.

“You with me, Trooper?”

Echo breathes slowly. In for four, hold for four, out for four.

“Sir I’m with you sir.”

He feels the line of the Captain’s side against his, the heat of him. Did Echo manage to give him a warm-up this time?

The hand at the base of Echo’ skull grips firm and grounding.

“Can you give me one more?”

One more, he thinks. He runs down the list of warning signs he’s been made to memorize.

“Yes sir,” he decides.

The Captain’s hand squeezes once in approval.

“ _Good_ ,” he says and the warmth in is voice, the pride, shoots down Echo’ spine and curls under his ribs.

There’s not a lot Echo wouldn’t do to earn it.

“Starting position.”

Echo pushes to his feet and drops into position. He doesn’t let his hands shake. The Captain is an unstoppable force and Echo has learned, again and again and again as he’s driven to the floor, that you don’t brace against him. Your only hope is to divert his force and do it _fast_. Echo knows the theory. It’s taking him a while to put it into practice.

He’s driven to the floor. The Captain follows him down.

“Hold.”

“Sir,” he says and finally lets his limbs collapse.

Forehead, temples, eyes, nose, lips, jaw, neck, shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, ankles. The Captain checks them himself, putting pressure and checking responses until he’s satisfied. Echo’s bruised, very bruised, and slightly humiliated, but not harmed. His head rolls to the side, ear pressed to the mat.

“Hold,” the Captain orders again. He presses down in the center of Echo’s chest, palm spread. Echo holds.

Achingly slowly his heart stops pounding at the Captain’s hand, his breath stops shaking in his lungs. He looks up.

Captain Rex meets his gaze. His eyes are kind. “Good. Sit up slowly.”

The Captain works him through cool down stretches, a final check of his range of motion. There’s a hand on him, always, until he’s pushed to sit back against a wall. Echo can focus on that touch even when his mind is buzzing. “Hydrate,” the Captain is ordering, pressing a bottle to his hands and programming a reminder to his comm. “Complex carbs, protein and plant fat for dinner. Minimum of seven hours of sleep. Report to the small arms range at 0800 tomorrow.”

“Water, post workout dinner, full night of sleep, small arms at o’eight,” Echo repeats.

“You’ve done well,” he says and the Captain never lies. Echo nods. The memory of the Captain’s hand on his shoulder persists long after he moves away.

_Fives, take the mat._

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Possessive](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23610991) by [Project0506](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Project0506/pseuds/Project0506)




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